Stumbling Grace
by Aria Krueger
Summary: It's fifth year, and Harry is ready to take on anything with the rest of the trio...but he wasn't expecting her. (Smidgens of R/H, revised chapter four, and a new chapter up!)
1. One: Afraid Of The Dark

A/N: I probably won't be able to update much within the next few days as I am going to be out of town without use of a computer. Thanksgiving and all. But I'll be writing mentally. And as you may have noticed, I'm a newbie. This is my first Harry Potter fic, though not my first piece of fiction. You can find more samples of my work at the website on my bio. Read on. 

**Stumbling Grace **

Chapter One: Afraid Of The Dark 

The summer seemed to fly by to Harry Potter. Granted, most of it was spent at the Burrow with his one of his best friends, Ron Weasley, and his family. And frequent visits from his other best friend, Hermione Granger, just accentuated the good times. He had only spent two weeks at the Dursley's home when he had been invited to stay at Ron's for the rest of the summer. Harry had graciously accepted. 

Now, nearly three months later, Harry stood in the middle of a train station surrounded by hundreds of families kissing and hugging their children goodbye for the school year. He stood to the side until Mrs. Weasley reached out and squeezed him tightly. 

"Now don't get into trouble this year, boys," Mrs. Weasley warned the young men standing in a semicircle around her. Harry, Ron, and Ron's twin brothers George and Fred nodded. Their little sister, Ginny, just giggled and shook her head. 

"Yes, mum," the brothers grumbled. Harry continued to nod. 

"Goodbye," she said, her eyes welling with tears. She stepped back and allowed them all to get on the train. 

Harry and Ron set out to find an empty compartment near the back and after a few minutes of searching, found one. The twins and Ginny, meanwhile, set out to find their friends. When the two had finally wrangled their trunks into the overhead and had gently set their owls' cages next to them, the compartment door slowly opened. 

They smiled as Hermione entered, looking relieved she'd found them. "I was beginning to wonder where you two were," she said somewhat breathlessly. "Fred and George kept telling me you were at the front of the train." Ron and Harry helped her put her trunk in the overhead. Only then did they notice a tall figure standing uncertainly behind Hermione. 

"Come in, come in," Hermione urged, clutching a large basket that contained her cat, Crookshanks, in her arm. A girl emerged cautiously from the shadows; a muggle cat carrier in hand and a trunk near her feet. "This is Ron Weasley and Harry Potter," Hermione smiled, gesturing towards the two. 

Ron and Harry smiled and held out their hands for her to shake. She stared at them for a second before smiling as well and shaking their hands. "Aurora-Grace Snow," she said in a quiet, cheerful voice. "Call me Grace." Ron and Harry could tell right away that she was American. 

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Grace," Harry smiled. He liked her already. For one, she was one of the only people who didn't look at him incredulously when they found out he was Harry Potter. She treated him as if he were a normal person. Even Ron hadn't entirely been that way in the beginning. 

Grace and Hermione pushed her trunk up and Hermione closed the compartment door. 

"I met Grace last week in Diagon Alley," Hermione explained as they all sat down. Harry took into notice that they both had very similar hair: thick and bushy with plenty of frizz, though Grace's had more curl to it. "We've been in touch ever since." She let Crookshanks out of his basket, and motioned for Grace to do the same. Both cats were large in size. But while Hermione's was an orange tabby, Grace's was black, white, gray, and every color in between. His black spotted nose and green eyes surveyed the room, taking it in. 

"Oh, your cat's so adorable," Grace said quietly. "What's its name?" 

"Crookshanks," Hermione beamed. 

"What's your cat's name?" Ron asked, attempting to break the ice, and looking at it a bit wearily. A couple of years ago, Crookshanks had kind of ruined any _strong_ love of cats he may have possibly had in the future when he constantly attacked Ron's old pet rat. 

"His name is Zeke," Grace grinned confidently. She seemed, Harry noticed, to be relieved that they were apparently accepting her without much ado. 

"When did you move to England?" Harry asked, curiously. 

"That obvious, huh? I moved here with my family about a month ago; my mom, my dad, and my little sister. She's not old enough to come here yet." She paused for a moment. "I used to go to a school in America: Pacifica Academy of Magic. That's in California." 

"What year are you?" Ron questioned. 

"Fifth." 

"Really?" Ron's eyes raised a bit. "But does the Sorting Hat work on anyone other than first years?" he asked, turning towards Hermione. 

"Well, you see-" 

But Hermione was cut off by the door opening. George's head poked through. "Oy, Harry, Ron, Hermione! I think I ought to warn you: Malfoy's making his way back here. I think he's still a bit upset about what we did to him on the train last year. Don't think you all would like a Howler from Mum tomorrow, so keep your wands in check," he warned, willing them not to lose their tempers with him. 

"Yeah, sure, Percy-I mean...George," Ron grinned slyly. 

"Don't be surprised if you find some Canary Cremes in your food this week," George muttered mysteriously before closing the door and heading back to the front. They could hear his and Fred's footsteps down the hall. 

Harry and Hermione broke out into laughter, while Ron looked slightly disoriented and Grace, confused. 

"Canary Cremes?" she asked hesitantly. 

Since the other two were still giggling, Ron explained, grumbling. "They're inventions of Fred and George. They make you sprout yellow feathers that molt within five minutes." Grace's shoulders shook a bit in laughter at the sheer thought of something like that happening. She calmed down after a few seconds. 

"And who's this Malfoy person?" 

All of their amusement subsided within seconds as the question was asked and dark shadows were seen from outside of their compartment. 

"Well, Grace," Hermione said hesitantly while she, Harry and Ron stood, their wands in hand, as if preparing for battle, "I think you're about to find out." 

As if on cue, the door slid opened and there stood a tall, well-built boy with brilliantly blinding blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Behind him were two large, thugish boys, glaring in contempt at those in the compartment. The blonde, who was still a good head shorter than the other two, grinned malevolently. 

"Well, if it isn't the Mudblood, the Prince, and the Pauper," he sneered venomously. Harry's grip tightened on his wand. He really didn't need to go through another year of this. 

Hermione coughed loudly towards Ron, who looked as though he would gladly strangle him at any second. 

"Malfoy, you've been calling us everything you could think of for the past four years. A short list of names that you ran out of years ago, grant you," Hermione smiled gleefully. "Would it really be that difficult for you to try to put yourself above that this year?" 

"Honestly, no." Ron snorted at the idea of Malfoy being honest. "But why bother, when it's so enjoyable?" 

Grace, who had apparently been hidden by their figures, stood up suddenly, an innocent grin on her face and a glint of mischief in her hazel eyes. "Malfoy, is it?" she asked, her voice as oily as Professor Snape's hair. Malfoy took as step back, his eyes widening just slightly. This surprised Harry because Malfoy never seemed to be the least bit afraid of anyone who was unarmed. "I haven't exactly been around for very long, but from all of the things I've heard so far in this compartment, I've come to one question that I want to ask you." She paused, seemingly for dramatic effect. Her voice suddenly turned harsh, along with her facial features. "Do you intentionally act like a jackass, or is it just a reflex by now?" 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione burst into laughter at Malfoy's dumbfounded look, which made him look even more clueless than Crabbe and Goyle. 

"Yeah, that's what I thought," she said, bitterly, pushing him out of the compartment and slamming the door shut. Grace slowly swiped at her clothes, as if ridding them from grime, and plopped back down into her seat by the window. 

"That was brilliant, Grace," Ron clamped his hands together. "I never thought we'd get rid of them." 

"Yeah, well, I don't like seeing people insulted maliciously," she said remotely, staring out of the window at the passing fields. 

"Grace?" Hermione asked thoughtfully once they had all settled down. 

"Hm?" she mumbled nonchalantly, still peering through the glass. 

"Did you know Malfoy at all? I mean before today." 

She turned to face her, her eyebrows furrowing. "No. Why?" 

"Because..." Hermione paused. "When you stood up, he looked like he had seen a ghost. And not a ghost like Nearly-Headless Nick, Ron," she warned as Ron opened his mouth to speak. "I don't know, it was just weird." 

"Well, most things in life are. You can't expect people to be any different than that." 

"What? Weird?" Harry asked. 

Grace nodded, then shrugged. "I probably just look like someone he knows." 

"Well, regardless, at least he'll be out of our hair for a while," Hermione said with a note of relief in her voice. 

That's when Harry heard it. _It's so dark in here. Let me out!_ a tiny voice cried. 

Harry's eyebrows raised. "Did you guys hear that?" he asked, standing up to see what was making that voice. 

"No," Ron said. It continued and Harry somehow traced it to a trunk on the girl's side. "Harry, have you gone mad? That's a suitcase." 

"I know. But I keep hearing a voice from over here." 

Being the voice of logic, not to mention reason, Hermione spoke up from the textbook she'd buried her nose in moments ago. "Grace, you wouldn't happen to have a pet snake, would you?" 

Grace peered at Hermione, dumbfounded. "How did you know?" 

"Harry, I think your problem's solved," she said with a wave of her hand and continued reading. 

"Wait, why did you ask me about my snake? Unless...Harry, are you a Parseltounge?" Grace asked, wide eyed, using quick powers of deduction. 

"Um, yeah, I am," he said sheepishly, glancing at the floor with a sudden interest in the carpeting. 

"Cool," she grinned. 

That had not been the reaction he had expected. He had expected shock, possibly horror that he possessed the most infamous skill of the greatest or Dark Wizards. But "cool" was the furthest thing from what he'd expected. "Cool?" 

"Yeah, I think it's cool that someone can talk to my snake. I'm sure Copernicus gets lonely in his tank every now and then." 

"Tank?" Hermione questioned, taking a break from her book. "How could you fit a tank in there?" 

"Oh, um, I had my dad enchant my bag so that I could take a lot of things with me. I'm such a pack rat and I tend not to pack lightly," she explained with an embarrassed grin. Grace stood, pulled her bag down, placed it on her seat, and opened it. Reaching in, she pulled out some impossibly large objects and finally, a tank with a moderately sized brown snake inside of it. "I've always wanted a bag like in _Mary Poppins_," she beamed. "Dad did this for me on my birthday this summer." She put everything back. Except for the snake. 

Harry heard a soft, _Thank you._

"I think your snake's afraid of the dark," Harry smiled. 

"Wouldn't doubt it," she laughed. 

"Wait," said Ron, looking as though he was solving a difficult algebra problem in his head. "Who's Mary Poppins?" 

Grace and Hermione laughed. 

"What? What'd I say?" 

"It's a movie," Grace said, maintaining composure. 

Ron had a quizzical look upon his face. 

"It's a muggle invention," Hermione explained through stifled laughter. "It's a bit difficult to explain..." 

"It's like watching a play, but through a little screen," Grace interrupted. 

Ron nodded, indicating he got somewhat of the gist of it. 

"I think I remember watching that when I was little," Harry muttered quietly. 

"Great movie, isn't it?" Grace asked. 

Harry couldn't remember very well. It had been a rather long time ago and he had been yelled at to finish his chores halfway through. He nodded absentmindedly. 

"Ron, you can come over to my house over the summer and watch it, if you want to," Hermione said. 

"Thanks, Hermione. Dad'll be jealous." 

"Is your dad's name Arthur?" Grace asked suddenly. 

"Yes," Ron answered cautiously. 

"I knew your name sounded familiar. My dad's talked about yours, a bit." 

"Really?" 

"Really. My dad was transferred to the British Ministry of Magic last month. That's why we moved here. Lot of nasty trouble with the whole Voldemort thing," she said offhandedly. 

Harry's head whipped up. She had said his name. Harry had only heard a handful of people utter that word, himself included. So it shocked him when this girl, who he had met only a half an hour ago, had said his name in such a nonchalant way. 

"Sorry," she said, looking at their shocked faces. "I keep forgetting that people don't like his name being said." 

"I don't mind that you said Voldemort's name," Harry said, seeing Ron flinch. He'd apparently been gawking, too stunned by Grace to wince. Hermione had just glanced up from her book, her eyebrows raised. She, however, returned to the book almost immediately. 

"I figured at least you wouldn't," she replied. 

"Why?" Harry asked, surprised at his own curiosity. 

"Well, because...I'm not sure how to put this in words...You see, I've never been afraid to say the name because, frankly, I've never had any real reason to fear him, because he only seemed to have power over in Britain. And I kind of figured that you would have even less reason to fear him, as you've faced him a few times, now." 

Harry nodded. "How do you know that I've gone up against him more than once," he wondered aloud. 

"My dad keeps me informed on everything going on in the world. He's mentioned it before when we discussed the trouble with Vol-sorry, You-Know-Who." She rolled her eyes. "I don't really see what the big deal is," she continued. "I mean, yeah, he's a pretty bad guy. But what's the point of not saying his name? Wouldn't that only increase fear? It certainly seems that way." 

Harry nodded again. "I understand completely. And I agree." 

"Well, that's good to know," she smiled. 

Harry leaned back in his seat and struck up a new conversation, Hermione contributing the occasional nod or "I know." 

Within a few hours, they had reached the Hogsmeade station, preparing to face their new year. 


	2. Two: Sam I Am

A/N: Thank you to those of you who reviewed and seem to enjoy the story so far. I apologize for the lack of excitement in the story at the moment, but it will get better. I need the first couple of chapters to set the story up. Thank you again. 

**

Stumbling Grace 

**

Chapter Two: Sam I Am 

Grace managed to get Copernicus back into her trunk before the train actually stopped. As soon as it did, she and Hermione placed their snoozing cats back into their carriers. Then Grace reached up to pull her trunk down. 

"No need," Hermione said to her, putting her book away. "They take it for us." 

Grace smiled. "Well that's convenient." The four of them exited the train. It was dark as everybody stepped out onto the platform. 

"First years, over here!" they heard a voice call in unison. 

"Hello, Hagrid!" Harry, Ron and Hermione waved to him. 

"That's Hagrid?" Grace asked, craning her neck to see the tall figure. 

"Yeah," Ron said. "Can't mistake him." 

"See ya'll later, then." 

"Wait. Why?" Hermione said. They had never mentioned Hagrid on the train. 

"I was told to meet Hagrid at the Hogsmeade station. And there he is. So I'll see all of you inside, I guess." 

She waved to them as they waved back and made their way to the horseless carriages. 

As soon as they found one and settled into it, they began speaking again. 

"So?" Hermione asked eagerly. 

"So what?" Ron asked. 

Hermione stared at him for a second before responding. "About Grace." 

"What about her?" Ron asked again. 

Hermione threw a quick, exasperated glare at him. "What do you think?" 

"Why do you ask?" It was Harry's turn to ask. 

"Well, I assumed that you two, of all people, would be a bit weary to meet and greet strangers," she explained. 

"Not really," Harry shook his head. "And besides, I very much doubt that she's working for Voldemort or anything like that." 

Ron shivered. "Yeah, except for saying You-Know-Who's name-" he paused and glanced at Harry, letting him know that he still wasn't comfortable with it, "she seems pretty cool. She certainly takes things in stride," he commented. 

"How so?" Hermione wondered. 

"Well, she didn't seem too concerned when she found out Harry was a Parseltounge, did she? It was almost like it was an everyday thing to her." 

"Maybe she just realizes that it's not what you have, but what you do with it," Harry explained. "And since I wasn't ordering it to strangle her, I don't think she cared much." 

"But I feel a sort of bad for her," Ron said, taking a bite of a Licorice Whip he'd removed from his pocket. 

"Why?" Harry's brows furrowed. 

He swallowed. "Because she's gonna get a lot of grief from Malfoy once he gets over the shock of her telling him off." 

"You're right," Hermione sighed. "He tends to get over humiliation rather quickly, doesn't he?" 

Ron, not wanting to further to discuss the possible wrath of Malfoy, changed the subject. "So how's Viktor doing?" A few weeks ago, when she went to visit them, Hermione had told them that she and Viktor decided not to "pursue the relationship thing any further." They still wrote to each other, though, and were now no more than pen pals. Ron had seemed strangely more at ease for the rest of the summer. 

"Oh, everything's fine. He told me that Bulgaria got a new Keeper because their old one retired last month and that they've been training hard. That's about it." 

Harry had almost forgotten. Quidditch. As there wasn't going to be a Tri-Wizard Tournament this year, he could play Quidditch again. That reminded him... 

"Ron, are you going to try out for Keeper this year? Since Wood left the other year, I'm sure they'll have tryouts," Harry said, hopefully. 

"Maybe," he said, looking thoughtful. "But if I don't make the team, Fred and George'll give me so much grief." 

"No they won't Ron. Stop over exaggerating," Hermione sighed. 

Ron lifted his eyebrows as if to say, "You're joking, right?" 

"Okay, so maybe they will. But what's the worst that could happen?" 

"I don't even want to think about the worst that could happen," Ron shook his head. By this time, they had reached the castle. The carriage came to a halt and they jumped down onto the soft ground below. Following their fellow students into the castle, and into the Great Hall, they continued their conversation. Though in a more subdued manner. 

Hermione's Prefect badge gleamed in the candlelight. 

"What's the new password?" Ron asked as they took their seats around the Gryffindor table. "I want to be able to get in before you have to round up the first years." 

"It's peregrine falcon," she muttered absentmindedly. Harry realized that she was preoccupied by what was happening at the front of the room. 

The side doors to the hall had opened and in walked Hagrid, a few dozen quivering first years parading in after him. Several seconds later, Grace stumbled into the room backwards, shoving her fist into the air at what was revealed as Peeves, as he followed her in. 

"You ever do that to me again, and you'll regret it," she cried through the silent hall. Suddenly, with a sheepish grin, she realized what she had done, as every single eye in the hall was transfixed on her. "Oh, hello everybody," she smiled, regaining her footing. "Had a little trouble back there." When everyone continued to stare, she advanced. "Well, everything's fine now. Proceed." She slinked shly into the back of the line as the rest of the hall turned their attention to the front. 

Professor McGonagall was placing the Sorting Hat on its usual stool. First year after first year made their way to the stool as she called their names. After the last first year, "Zimmerman, Hayden!" was sorted into Ravenclaw, Professor McGonagall called out, "Snow, Aurora-Grace!" and beckoned her over to it. Grace glanced at the Gryffindor table and gave the three of the of them a slight smile. 

Harry thought back to his first year at Hogwarts. He had been just as small as the other first years; and just as nervous. Though, he thought, Graces nerves had to be in a whole other league. She was the odd man out, being four or five years older than everyone else who had been sorted that night. Everyone else of their year, fifth, already had their friends and enemies and so forth, and would most likely be reluctant to let a newcomer into their crowds. Heck, he was reluctant as well. 

Harry looked back up and Grace was awkwardly balancing the hat over her head. She squirmed a bit in her seat as they waited. And waited. The silence was deafening as everyone stared in anticipation, wondering where this new girl was going to be placed. Finally, after a rather long three minutes, the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" and Grace, beaming, shoved the hat off of her head, making her way towards the cheering Gryffindor table. 

Hermione scooted over and made room for her. 

"That's a very nice hat. Good conversationalist," she said as she sat down. 

She looked like she was about to say something else, but Dumbledore stood up at the head table. The hall fell silent once more when he spoke. "I would like to welcome you all to a new year at Hogwarts. A special welcome to the first years and to our first transfer student in 20 years." The entire hall seemed to glance at Grace. She looked down at her empty golden plate, her face growing pink, until Dumbledore changed the subject hastily. "With that said, let's eat!" he proclaimed. 

"About time," Ron grumbled as the plates filled with savory food. Ron dug in without a second's notice. 

Grace eyed the food for a few seconds before taking a bit and made a slight face. 

"What's wrong?" Ron asked curiously, his mouth full. 

"I'm still not used to British food," she said. Taking a sip of her pumpkin juice, she frowned.. She placed the cup back on the table, muttered a few words while waving her hand once over the goblet, and drank from it again. From the expression on her face, she seemed much more satisfied with the taste. 

"What'd you do?" Hermione asked. 

"Turned it into Diet Coke," Grace replied, taking another sip. "I decided to learn that little spell without a wand when I found out that we were moving to a place with weird food. Figured I should bring a little bit of home with me." 

"There's Diet Coke in England," said Hermione. 

"Oh, I know that now," she smiled. "But I figured it was doubtful that there would be any in Hogwarts." 

"I'm assuming that it's a type of drink," Ron cut in. The two girls nodded. They all tended to forget that Ron was the only one of them without much experience in the muggle world. 

"So what did the hat say to you," Hermione asked, taking a bite from her potatoes. Harry thought this was a bit impertinent. Hermione herself apparently thought so, too. "I'm only asking because you said it was so hospitable. I'm not trying to ask you anything that you don't want to-" 

"It's no problem," Grace laughed. "It just said I was extremely hard to place because, for the most part, I'm a contradiction of myself." 

"A contradiction of yourself?" Harry, who had been silent up until that point, asked. 

"Yeah," she began to explain. "I'm kind of a wuss at times, but I can be brave as well. And I'm quick thinking, but slow on the not so rare occasion. Etc., etc." 

"Oh," Harry nodded, briefly thinking back to a time five years ago when that same hat had had a difficult time placing him as well. "Were you nervous at all?" 

"A little bit," she admitted. "But what I was most worried about was where I was gonna be sorted. I saw that Malfoy kid sitting at that table over there and I don't want to be in the same house as a snot like that. So, yeah." 

"I know what you mean," Harry nodded, taking a sip from his goblet. "Slytherin wasn't exactly my house of choice, either." 

After a few more minutes of dinning and chatter, Dumbledore stood once more. The places instantly cleared as everyone stared up at him with rapt attention. 

"I bid you goodnight and wish you good luck in filling those parts of your brain that have been emptied over the summer. Enjoy your year." 

People clapped at their signal to go to bed and noisily stood and dispersed. Harry and Ron hung back with Hermione. 

"Grace, why don't you stay with me so I can show you where our dorm room is," Hermione suggested. 

A tall sixth year Gryffindor boy came and stood behind her, a prefect badge gleaming on his chest. "Ready?" he asked. 

"Yes," said Hermione. "Ron, Harry? See you tomorrow. First years!" she called out as Harry and Ron exited the hall. They could hear a distant, "Follow us!" 

They walked in silence for a short time. 

"I just hope Hermione doesn't turn into another Percy," Ron said suddenly as they made their way to the Gryffindor tower. 

"I don't think she'll take this Prefect thing as seriously as Percy did. I mean, sure she'll be serious about it, but she's not going to go on an all out power trip on us. You have to admit: she's loosened up a lot in the past five years," Harry said. 

"But this Prefect gig might unravel all that we have worked so hard for all of these years," Ron said with a dramatic sigh, throwing his hand up to his forehead. 

"Peregrine falcon," Harry said to the Fat Lady as they reached the common room. "Get in there," he laughed, pushing Ron through the open door. They continued their playful banter all the way up to their dorm, where they greeted the other familiar boys, changed into their pajamas, and climbed into bed. 

Harry, full and thoroughly content with his life at the moment, placed his glasses on his night stand and fell into a deep sleep. 

**** 

Harry awoke the next morning to the shrill song of a bird outside of his window. Opening the curtains around his bed, he saw that nearly all of the boys were up already. 

"Morning, Harry," Ron said sleepily, already dressed and staring out the window. "I was about to wake you up, but no point in that anymore." 

Harry stood, thankful for his socks, as the floor felt nearly frozen. He walked over next to where Ron was standing and looked out the window. "What's so interesting out there?" 

"Nothing," Ron shrugged. "I'm just enjoying these last few minutes of freedom before classes start," he smiled. "Take your time getting ready. I need to savor these few mere moments." 

Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "You get weirder every year. But that can be expected," he smiled, remembering Grace's words. "See you in a few minutes." 

Ron nodded silently and continued to stare down at the grounds. Within a few minutes, they were making their way down to the common room. They found Hermione and Grace waiting for them at the portrait hole. Grace was looking at her watch while pulling at the neck of her uniform while Hermione had her arms crossed and was tapping her foot impatiently. 

"It's about time," she muttered as they walked slower and slower with each step. "Well, come on." She waited a few more seconds as Harry and Ron slowed their pace to the point where they were almost walking backwards. 

"Guys?" Grace spoke up. She seemed to become as shy as she was when they first saw her. "I really don't want to be late for my first day," she said in a soft voice. 

"That's all you had to do, Hermione," Ron smiled cheekily as they finally sped up their step. "Ask _nicely_." 

Hermione rolled her eyes as they left the common room and started down the stairs to the Great Hall. "You don't have to be so nice to them, you know," Hermione said, apparently still agitated at their insisted slowness. 

"Well, I don't really know them well enough to boss them around," Harry heard Grace say from behind them, almost seeing her smile impishly. 

Minutes later, they were down in the hall, serving themselves breakfast. 

"I will not eat fried eggs and ham. I will not eat them, Sam I Am," Grace said absentmindedly. 

"What?" Hermione asked. 

"Nothing," Grace grinned. "Just taking advice from the Dr." She took a bite of the fried egg in front of her. 

They spent the next few minutes looking at their class schedules. 

"We have Divination first?" Harry moaned, not looking forward to another year of his death being predicted every five minutes. 

"Wow. I'm not looking forward to having Study Of Ancient Runes first thing in the morning on a Monday," Grace shook her head. 

"You have that, too?" Hermione asked, peering over to look at her Grace's schedule. "Oh, and do you two have Herbology after morning break and Care of Magical Creatures this afternoon? We do." 

"Yeah," said Ron. "And we have Double Potions with the Slytherins tomorrow morning _and_ Friday afternoon," he muttered, bitterly. "Our schedules just get better every year." 

"We'd better get going," Hermione said. "See you at break," she told Harry and Ron. 

"Bye," Grace said as they headed out of the hall. 

**** 

Divination went about the same as it always did. This term, they were going to be working on the planets and stars again, only more in depth. "How can you get anymore in depth than we already have?" Ron whispered incredulously to Harry when this was said. Professor Trelawney only predicted his death twice, and Harry had almost fallen asleep halfway through the discussion of Cassiopeia. 

"So much for this class getting more interesting over time," Ron sighed as they left the class in a haze of incense smoke. Parvati and Lavender had decided to bring their own incense from home so that it would give their best class a "personal touch." 

"I'm going to smell like vanilla and cinnamon for the next week," Harry said. 

"It smells like I'm wearing women's perfume," Ron said, sniffing his robes. When they went to the common room, they saw several Gryffindors preparing for their next classes during the break, including Hermione. Grace was sitting lazily in a large armchair, inattentively creating different colored bubbles with her wand. On the ground, her cat Zeke attempted to pop as many as he could, several landing in his thick coat. Crookshanks lay on the top of Hermione's armchair, glaring at Zeke's playfulness. Harry assumed that he didn't like bubbles much. 

"Hermione, why are you preparing for Herbology?" Ron asked. 

"Because I need to be prepared for every class. That's just what I do," she said, not glancing up from her book, "Magical Plants of the Tundra", which was surprisingly thick. 

"You don't need to study for that class. You know more about plants now than Harry and I will ever know combined in a lifetime. Now let's go." 

"He's right, man," Grace said, sitting up straight and pulling Zeke into her lap. "Don't forget to bring Crookshanks up before you go. Be right back." She stood up, carrying Zeke, and left for the girls' dorm. 

**** 

As they made their way down to the greenhouses, Harry looked over at Grace, who was laughing at a sarcastic comment Ron had made. He felt a little awkward having someone new around them all of the time. What were they going to do when they needed to talk about what was going on with Sirius or Voldemort? Tell her to go away? 

He was having second thoughts about his first impression of her. What did they really know about her, anyway? She was nonchalant about the Parseltounge discovery and she didn't seem too concerned about using Voldemort's name. 

Then again, she did tell off Malfoy and never tried to step on their toes. 

He didn't realize he was staring at her until she glanced over at him, her eyebrows furrowed. She turned her head back to Hermione. 

Yes, he'd have to watch out for Grace. 

Just in case... 


	3. Three: Optically Challenged

A/N: Sorry about not writing for a while. To be honest, for the past few days, I haven't even been thinking about the story. I just got back from a tour of Southern California with my school's performing arts department. (I'm a band geek _and_ a choir type.) We went to Disneyland on Saturday and I'm _still_ beat from that whole, walking around for 15 hours thing. Oh, and the chapters will probably be a little shorter from now on. Do you know how long it takes to actually make every chapter of a story six pages or longer? Oh, and someone please explain to me what a Mary-Sue is? I'm sure Grace isn't one, but I'd like to know, regardless. 

**

Stumbling Grace 

**

Chapter Three: Optically Challenged 

"Ron?" 

"What?" he asked, shuffling his feet along the dewy grass. He and Harry had had to stay behind in Herbology to clean up a pot of soil they'd spilled while working with their Neptune Fly Trap. They were now making their way to lunch on their own. 

"I'm worried," Harry said, choosing his words somewhat carefully. 

"About?" 

"Grace." 

Ron looked over at him. "Why are you worried about Grace? You barely know her." 

"That's just it," Harry started. "How much do we really know about her?" 

Ron shook his head. "What do you mean?" 

"Think about it. She just _happens_ to move to England two months after Voldemort came back. She just _happens_ to run into Hermione in Diagon Alley and become friends with her. She didn't seem too shocked to find out that I'm a Parseltounge. And why did Malfoy seem so afraid of her when she wasn't even armed?" 

Ron stared at him for a second. "Have you lost your mind? Do you know how paranoid you're being?" 

"So?" Harry said indignantly. 

"You're reading more into it than there is. She happened to move to England _now_ because her dad was transferred due to You-Know-Who. She just _happened_ to make friends with Hermione that same way that I just _happened_ to make friends with you a few years ago-" 

"That's different," Harry argued. 

"Let me finish," Ron put his hand up. "Maybe she just takes things more in stride than other people, so the 'talking to snakes' thing didn't phase her. And who knows with Malfoy?" 

Harry sighed. "Then why do I feel so weird about this girl?" 

"Maybe you fancy her," Ron laughed. 

Harry shook his head. "No." He thought about Cho for a second. He hadn't seen her yet. Not since the end of last year. "You're right, I'm just being paranoid." 

"Look at it this way: if she doesn't try to kill you within a month, I'd assume she's not anyone to be too concerned about." 

Harry laughed as they walked up the stairs to the entrance hall. There really _wasn't_ anything to worry about. They entered the Great Hall and joined the girl of previous conversation and Hermione for lunch. 

**** 

She heaved heavily as she felt a large weight smothering her chest. "Zeke," she grumbled as she pushed the stubborn cat off of her. 

"Oh, hello Grace. Guess I don't have to wake you, now," Hermione said from her bed, attempting to put her hair into a ponytail. Grace sat up and sighed, patting down her own hair in dismay. She pulled on her black, thick framed, square glasses and walked over to the bathroom. 

_One disaster area per day,_ she thought as she decided to leave her glasses on today and do something to her hair today, instead. Her Muggle contact lenses lying forgotten on the counter, she pulled and brushed and combed her hair back into a tight bun. Several strands of frizz still broke free in the front and on the back of her neck, but there was nothing that could be done about these. 

Superficial as it may seem, that was one of the main things that brought Hermione and Grace together as friends. The hatred of their hair had caused them to find a common ground within minutes of meeting each other. 

Her mother had actually sought out Hermione's parents. Though her father was a wizard, her mother was still a muggle. And a dentist at that. When she had found out that there were muggle dentists with ties to the wizarding world in England, she jumped at the chance to meet others such as herself. 

Diagon Alley was a bit smaller and older than the Wizarding Complex in San Francisco was, but she liked the old-fashioned look. She liked a place with a bit of history. There were several stores that she liked in Diagon Alley. Her favorite was the bookstore, Flourish and Blotts. She'd always been a bookworm. From the moment she could read, there had usually been a book or magazine in her hand. Though now less than when she was younger. But a good book was always a sure way to improve her mood. 

This is where she and Hermione first met. It usually took Grace a while to get chummy with people, as she was either shy to the point of seemingly ignoring the person, though paying close attention, or so severely outgoing, that she frightened some of the less daring away. Shy seemed to be the dominant mood that day. Oh, she had plenty of friends back home, friends that she missed all of the time, but the actual making of friends took a while with her. It had been nearly two weeks before she'd had an actual conversation with anyone at her old school. 

Being very familiar with her own past, she was somewhat hesitant to meet anyone before the school year started. Dreading what word might spread on what a "spaz" or "jerk" the new girl was. Grace was pleasantly surprised to find that she could easily talk to Hermione, and that she edged out from her shell far quicker than she had expected. 

In truth, Hermione had been a bit worried about their meeting. She already had friends at school and she didn't want them to feel like she'd be abandoning them if she made another friend. But she assured Grace, in more or less words, that her friends would be cool with it. Before the two even met, they had the feeling they'd be seeing a lot of each other, anyway, what with their parents' professions and "special" ties. 

Pulling her tie looser than she'd originally had it, she wandered back into the dorm to gather her book bag. Yawning, Hermione motioned her head towards the door and they walked sleepily down to the common room. 

Grace led the way to the Great Hall that morning. One thing she prided herself on was being able to find her way through a building quickly. They sat down near the middle of the semi-full table and began to eat their bacon and toast hungrily. Ginny joined then after a short period. "Morning. You're looking very studious today, Grace," Ginny commented as she practically basted her toast in Strawberry Jelly. Grace grunted tiredly in response. "What do you two have today?" she asked Hermione. 

"Double Potions with the Slytherins in the morning, and History of Magic this afternoon," Hermione said mid-yawn. She had stayed up late the night before reading a book that Grace had recommended to her. 

"Oh, so that's why you've got the studious look. You're trying to get on Snape's good side," Ginny grinned. 

"What?" Grace asked, her head whipping up slightly. "I just woke up five seconds ago, sorry. But is this the same Snape that you guys were talking about on the train?" 

"The one and only," Hermione muttered, beginning to regain full consciousness. 

"Well, I have no intention of trying to impress any teacher." 

"Oh, I didn't say anything about impressing him," Ginny shook her head. "You'll want to get on his good side early on." 

"Why?" 

"Let's just say he has his favorites, and he's not very discreet or subtle in letting us know it," Hermione said, her voice dark. 

"Oh, one of _those_ teachers." Grace shrugged. "Nothing I'll worry about until I've had the class," she said, returning to her bacon. 

Ginny finished quickly and hurried back up to her dorm room to prepare for her classes. 

Minutes later, Ron and Harry entered the hall. Once they reached the girls, Harry looked curiously at Grace. "Since when do you wear glasses?" he asked, pushing his own up the bridge of his nose. Grace did the same to hers. 

"Since when are you the only optically challenged person in the world?" she retorted. Laughing, she took another bite of her toast, then continued. "I wear contacts most of the time. But I didn't want to deal with them today," she shrugged. 

Harry nodded in understanding and sat down slowly. Something about the way she responded didn't rub right with him. _There I go again,_ he thought angrily at himself. _She's not evil. Stop letting your imagination get the best of you._

He looked up to see Grace staring at him, an eyebrow raised. "You okay, man?" she asked. 

"Yeah," Harry said, taking a drink of orange juice. 

**** 

The four walked down to the dungeons together. "Grace, I think there's a few things we should warn you about before you go in there," Hermione said as they reached the dungeon corridor. 

"Yeah, like he really has it in for Gryffindors and-" Ron started, eager for a chance to say anything negative about Snape. Harry couldn't blame him. 

But Grace cut him off. "Look, thanks for trying to give me the heads up, but I think I can handle a potions class," she said, not with an overly snobby attitude, but just with confidence. 

"Well then," Hermione said darkly with a sigh, opening the door, "enjoy." 

The dungeon was just as dank and musty as it was last year and the year before that. Harry looked over a Hermione and they both nodded a silent agreement. They sat Grace down between the two of them, almost to guard her from Snape's wrath, Ron sitting on the other side of Harry. It's not that they didn't think she could handle a class with Snape, but they decided to do it as an extra precaution, in case Snape was in a particularly heinous mood this year. 

Grace raised an eyebrow at this, but decided not to argue. Maybe he really was as bad as they made him out to be. They sat in silence for the next few minutes, waiting for the class to begin. Grace noticed that the Malfoy kid she'd met on the train was in this class; and that he was giving her a strange look. She turned and frowned at him, causing him to turn his attention to the front of the room. What's his _deal?_ she wondered. But she didn't have time to contemplate this. 

Suddenly, Snape burst through the door at the back of the room, causing nearly everyone to jump in surprise. "It's your fifth year," he said briskly. "You know the procedure. Set up," he said, turning to write the ingredients on the board. Everyone in the room immediately shuffled around for their cauldrons and the ingredients on the board. 

Snape then turned and looked at each person in the room, making sure the usual people were still there. He stopped when his eyes landed on Grace. He peered down at the Gryffindor emblem on her robe and then back up to her. "I see we have a new student." 

"Aurora-Grace Snow, sir," she said, looking him in the eye. Her tone was a bit more curt than she had intended it. 

Snape had not missed her tone. His eyebrows raised as he said, "Well, Ms. Snow, I guess we'll see just how much you learned at that American school of yours," in a nearly sinister manner. 

"Guess we will," she replied, her voice flat. 

Snape gave her one last glance out of the corner of his eye, and continued the class. "We're making the Glowing Elixir today. Should you prepare it correctly, your skin will glow brightly. You will be working individually. Proceed," he said. He then began circling the room, mostly supervising and just waiting for a Gryffindor to slip up. 

Grace felt no pressure whatsoever. She meticulously measured liquids, precisely chopped garlic cloves and carrots, and gingerly weighed her ingredients. In fact she finished her potion first, several minutes before Hermione and Malfoy, who were easily the two best students in the class. She busied herself by burying her nose into a muggle book called, "The Princess Bride." 

When everyone had finished with their ingredients and were letting them simmer, Ron struck up a conversation. "How did you get finished so fast?" he asked Grace. She looked up from her book. "I was barely adding the bat's wing when you finished." 

She put the book down and smiled. "There are only two subjects that I'm really any good at. Potions just happens to be my forte. It also helps that my dad is an expert in potion making." Again, she smiled, though this time at the thought of her father. 

They continued talking until ten minutes later, when Snape began to get around to the testing of the potions. 

"All right, Ms. Snow," he said, a sly grin appearing on his face. "Why don't you go first, seeing as you finished long before the rest of the class." He obviously thought that since she'd finished so quickly, she couldn't have done it right. 

Nodding, she stood and poured her elixir into a small bottle. With a swift motion, she downed the thin, white liquid. It resembled milk. Within seconds, her skin was glowing a remarkably bright shade of yellow, reminding Harry of a giant light bulb. Grace gave a broad grin and sat down. 

Snape's smile faltered. "Right," he said. "Next, Mr. Malfoy." 

Malfoy's potion, to Harry's delight wasn't as bright as Grace's, though his hair color added a bit of illumination. "Excellent," Snape said in approval. "Ms. Granger." On and on it went, from student to student. Hermione's was just as bright as Grace's, much to the dismay of Snape and Malfoy. Harry's was dimmer by far, but he was still glowing a yellow color. Ron's, unfortunately, just made his skin turn as orange as his hair. "Far too many carrots, Mr. Weasly. And try a little more nymph's tear next time," Snape sneered. Neville's potion also went a bit haywire. Instead of staying one color, like everyone else, his skin changed from yellow, to red, to purple, to blue, and so on. "Did you _completely_ forget the garlic, Longbottom?" he asked in a derisive voice. Neville's skin, coincidentally, turned a brilliant shade of red at that moment. 

By the time he reached the last few people, the whole room was so bright that the class had to be ended early because barely anyone could see anything anymore. "A one piece of parchment essay on the uses of nymph's tear in this room on Friday," Snape said as they exited the classroom. 

"Well, that was rather fun, wasn't it?" Grace asked with an impish smile as they walked up the stairs. 

Harry was about to respond with an, "Are you crazy?" when Malfoy pushed past him, Crabbe and Goyle following in suit. 

"What's that guy's deal?" Grace asked, voicing her previous thoughts. 

"Who knows with that git," Ron grumbled. 

"He's been a bit weird this year, though," Hermione commented. 

Harry nodded. "He hasn't insulted us since the train. And he hasn't even tried to get us in detention or expelled, yet," he said. 

"Sounds like a pleasant kid," Grace laughed. "Sarcasm!" she exclaimed when Harry frowned at her in confusion. "Lighten up man. So to speak," she laughed, gesturing towards his still glowing skin. 

A/N: I was attempting to follow J.K.'s basic format (from Harry's point of view, but not in first person), but I just couldn't do it without getting more than one perspective. Sorry to those of you who are set in the format. 


	4. Four: Random Holidays and a Strawberry B...

A/N: Guess what? Stupid me forgot to put a disclaimer. Well, here it is. It's JK's, not mine. Not like you didn't know that already. Grace is, so far, the only self-created character.

****

Stumbling Grace

Chapter Four: Random Holidays and a Strawberry Bloodstream

"Halloween!"

"Christmas!"

"Christmas!"

"Easter!"

"Christmas!"

"Boxing Day!"

"What?" Hermione asked, her quill slipping from the piece of parchment.

"I said, 'Boxing Day,'" Grace reiterated to her.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, shrugged, and wrote something on the parchment. "I need eight more," she said loudly to whoever would listen.

"April Fool's Day!" the Weasley twins shouted from the other side of the room. Hermione laughed.

Several more holidays were yelled out and Hermione stated her thanks.

Fred and George Weasley came over to the small group of Hermione, Grace, Ron, Harry, and Ginny, who were gathered together on chairs and couches far from the empty fireplace.

"Why do you need everyone's favorite holiday?" George asked, leaning on the back of her chair, attempting to catch a peek at what she was writing.

"Arithmancy assignment," Hermione said. "We're doing statistics."

Grace sucked in a breath and flinched visibly. "Sorry. I just have bad memories with math and numbers," she said with a laugh. "Go on," she motioned with her hand.

"We have to find out twelve peoples' favorite holidays and make twelve different charts and graphs."

"How exciting," Ron murmured.

"At times, yes," Hermione smiled.

"When was the last time you had Arithmancy?" he asked.

"Yesterday afternoon," she replied. "Why?"

"Damn, I was hoping to catch you doing your homework at the last minute for once."

Hermione gave him a reproving glare, and then smiled. "You can try, but I doubt you will."

Ron turned to Grace. "Chess?" he asked, holding up one of his knights.

Grace shook her head immediately. "No thanks. I couldn't play chess to save my life." Hermione looked up and she, Ron, and Harry glanced at each other with a smile. "Checkers, I could kick your butt, but I don't know how to play chess."

"Okay," Ron nodded. "Harry?"

"Sure."

As the night traipsed on, the group dwindled until only four remained.

"What day is it again?" Grace asked, a massive yawn following in suit.

"Thursday," Ron said with a sigh. "I'll get to sleep in again in a day."

"Can't complain about that," she agreed. "Well, I fully intend on being unconscious for the next seven or eight hours. Goodnight, guys."

She stood up and left as they bid their goodnights.

Ron turned and looked to see that Grace had left the room entirely before he rounded back to Harry and Hermione. "Are you still convinced that she's evil?" Ron asked Harry.

"I'm not saying that she is, just that there's a possibility…" Harry trailed off. Though a couple of days after their previous discussion, he had mentioned something to Ron earlier that day about it and Ron was still giving him grief.

"Oh, so you _have_ been worrying about that," Hermione nodded, closing her severely large Arithmancy book.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I expected you to be more cautious this year about everyone around you; new _Iand/I_ old. I'm just relieved that I was right. You seemed rather confident about her innocence after meeting with her only once," she explained in a hushed voice. The common room was nearly empty, but there were still a few first and second years at the other end of the room playing a game of Exploding Snap.

Taking a breath, she continued. "Where Grace is concerned, I'm pretty sure she's not evil," she said with a laugh. "Polyjuice potion is out of the question. She was just down here for two hours without anything to drink. Plus, I share a room with her; I would have noticed if she got up every hour on the hour to drink something. If she really were evil, though, I'm sure she'd have a hard time getting it past her father," she said, as an afterthought.

"Isn't that what Crouch did with his father?" Ron asked, glancing briefly over at Harry.

"Yes, but Crouch was also pretty much oblivious to his family. From what I've seen, and heard, about her father, he's a real family man, and both of them are close. She told us that her father is working at the Ministry now, which is true. But I have reason to believe that he may be working with Dumbledore, as well, like your dad, Ron." Ron's dad and several other select people in the Ministry who were fed up with Fudge's reluctance to accept the truth were working with Dumbledore to attempt to stop anything from happening before it began. It was a small group, but it was growing rapidly. Granted, they were far more prepared for things this time around.

"How would you know that?" asked Harry. They were now the only ones left in the common room.

"Well, she told me that two years before you defeated You-Know-Who for the first time," she motioned to Harry, "her mother and father lived in Britain so that he could fight for our side. Her father left his previous job as the Potions master at her old school and went to fight for us, at the request of Dumbledore. I don't know how they know each other. I don't even think she knows." She paused for a moment to let the information sink in.

Harry looked as if he were going to comment, but decided against it. Hermione was in her element, and who was he to stop her when she had the ball rolling? "She said her family moved back to California when she was one: when his services were no longer needed. He was placed in the Ministry over there, in the muggle relations department, and has been there ever since. She didn't really say anything about whether Dumbledore was the one who asked for her father, but I'm assuming it was him."

Ron furrowed his brow for a moment. "You guys talk a lot," he commented.

Hermione let out a short laugh. "So I think it's safe to say that she's not a Death Eater. Though I'm sure you already are, I just wanted to warn you guys to be wary."

"Of who?" Harry asked.

"Everybody."

Hermione was silent for a few moments before gathering her books and parchment and wishing them goodnight. Harry and Ron followed suit and trudged up the stairs to their near silent dorm room. Seamus let out the occasional snort. Harry changed into his pajamas, set his glasses down on the night stand, and climbed into his four-poster bed. Placing his hands on his stomach, he began to mull things over.

So he had enough reason to assume that she wasn't on the other side. But what reason did he have to assume otherwise? Why had he assumed the worst about this girl? She had done nothing vindictive or spiteful to him. If anything, she'd been more than nice. She was just a girl trying to make friends in a new country; a country that she hadn't set foot in since she was one.

Harry turned onto his side. Her father had been a potions master before he came to Britain to fight for the side of good. That explained why she was so good at it. It was in her genes and her father had probably taught her everything he knew. Harry grinned slightly as an image of Grace popped into his head. Down in the common room earlier, she still seemed to have some of the glow left over from Potions when she smiled. He drifted slowly into a deep sleep.

****

Two weeks had passed and things were still pretty much the same. Hermione still did homework at just about every free minute possible. Ron still kicked his butt in chess every chance he got. And Harry still enjoyed the look of amazement and scorn on both Snape and Malfoy's faces every time Grace proved herself to be an expert in potions.

A few things were different however. For instance, Malfoy seemed to have gotten over whatever it was he had, because he was now insulting them again. On occasion. Hagrid was only teaching about semi vicious creatures at the moment. They were working with Crups this week. And Grace seemed to have opened up a little bit and now had a sarcastic comment for, well, a lot of things.

"Are you _really _going to sing Happy Birthday to me in the Great Hall?" Hermione groaned as they prepared for their classes before breakfast.

"No. We're going to sing I'm King Henry The Eighth, I Am," Grace rolled her eyes, scratching Zeke's neck. That cat acted like a dog sometimes, following her around everywhere in the Gryffindor tower. "It's your birthday; therefore, Happy Birthday is the song of choice."

"But do you have to do it in front of everyone in the school?" she asked, apprehension in her tone.

"Tell you what," Grace said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. The four fifth years made their way down to breakfast. "I'll wait until Charms. That way, you already know everyone, they know you, no need for embarrassment," she smiled.

"I'd much rather prefer you not do it at all." Hermione said in a voice that almost suggested that she wouldn't mind.

"Don't worry about it. We'll do it on Ron and Harry's birthdays, too. That way, they don't feel left out."

"What about your birthday?" Ron asked.

Grace's smile grew into a sly grin. "My birthday's during the summer. You don't need to worry about me."

"Oh yes, we do," Hermione said with a grin that rivaled Grace's.

Grace eyed her warily as they entered the Great Hall. The four sat down at the Gryffindor table and began eating breakfast. Harry watched as Grace peered into her goblet, sighed, and waved her hand over it, muttering words once more. She took a satisfied drink and began to eat her scrambled eggs.

Hermione suddenly slammed her fork down on the table. "_How_ are you doing that?" she questioned exasperatedly, looking at Grace.

Grace looked up, her mouth full of eggs. "What?" she managed to get out in surprise.

"How do you change your drink like that? Without a wand! It's been driving me crazy for three weeks. I need to know," she exclaimed, taking a deep breath.

Grace chewed thoughtfully for a few moments, swallowed, and smiled. After taking another drink from her goblet, she replied, "Apple Juice. It was originally orange juice."

They could hear Hermione's foot tapping beneath the table in impatience. Harry smiled as he noticed that when Ron reached up and tugged at her hair, she stopped. Well, she stopped to glare at him, but she stopped nonetheless.

He turned his attention back towards Grace as she laughed. He was rather curious as to how she was doing this, as well. It was a well-known fact in the wizarding world that, in most cases, any kind of controlled spell needed a wand. He looked back onto the time he blew up his Aunt Marge. That had been uncontrolled, unplanned, and brought on by over emotion.

"Ever since I was very little, far before I ever had a wand, my dad taught me one type of spell: how to convert one liquid into another, so that I could help him with his potions research. I had a lot of fun with that little trick in my muggle grade school," she laughed. "It's the only spell I can do without a wand. In fact, I can't do it _with_ a wand, only my bare hand," said Grace, putting up her right hand.

Hermione nodded slowly. "So can you _really_ change any liquid?"

Grace concentrated for a few seconds. "Not exactly every liquid. I have to practice changing each liquid a lot, depending on the complexity of it, and there are certain elements I just can't make. I guess potions just fills that void, for the most part."

Hermione nodded. "How much can you change at once?"

Grace suddenly looked pale for a moment. "Um, a lot." She paused for a minute, as if building up the courage to say something. Finally, she did. "In fact," she gulped, "when I was in my second year at Pacifica, I, uh…I accidentally turned my blood into, um, strawberry milkshake." She winced as she heard a small gasp coming from all of them. "It was two minutes before the potions professor found out and changed it back to blood. I was in the hospital wing for two weeks with pneumonia."

There was silence at the table for a minute or two. Grace suddenly smiled impishly and said, "But that's not the biggest thing I did."

Hermione's head snapped up. "Really? What was it?"

"Okay, in my third year, I was in the middle of the huge fight with this one girl. We did not get along _at_ all. Well, she had just played a cruel joke on me and I wanted to get her back. So one day, I was headed down to the indoor pool we had in the basement (it was pretty hot there through the whole year) and I noticed she was swimming there alone. Luckily, she hadn't seen me. So, I went over to the pool and I changed it into near-solid liquid gelatin. It took about three minutes to fill the whole pool, but because it was so cold, it hardened really quickly. From her torso down, she was stuck for a good three hours until someone went down there and found her."

The group was stunned, and yet delighted and humored by her revenge plot. "I'm impressed," Ron laughed, shaking his head. "Heck, Fred and George would be impressed." Hermione gave a stern look for a few seconds but finally cracked and gave a small giggle.

Grace blushed at their amusement. "I've never done anything like that since, though," she said. "My wild streak burned out after that."

"Pity," said Ron, receiving a small smack on the arm from Hermione.

"You two act like an old married couple," Grace commented, the impish grin returning to her face. Both Ron and Hermione blushed and Harry just had to grin along with her.

****

When breakfast was over, they headed up the stairs to the charms classroom.

"I still can't believe you can perform magic without a wand," Hermione said, shaking her head.

"What can I say, I'm a human oddity," Grace shrugged. "I don't like to show it off…for the most part," she grinned.

"Please don't sing Happy Birthday to me," Hermione said suddenly, her face in a near grimace.

"Huh? Oh, I had no intention of actually _doing_ that," Grace said, placing her charms text upon her head and attempting to balance it. "I was just saying that to freak you out. You know, get your adrenaline pumping." The textbook fell off of her head with a loud clunk on the floor and she sighed. "I feel so coordinated."

Harry looked over at Hermione, fully expecting her to say something about the proper care and treatment of books. She seemed poised and ready to say something, but Ron was giving her a 

"Let it rest," look and she remained silent.

Charms was already a twice a week disaster for Grace. At least once a lesson, something or someone would go flying across the room unintentionally. Professor Flitwick set up pillows around the room prior to each lesson with the Gryffindor fifth years.

Harry glanced over at Grace, who was being instructed by Hermione. They were working on the Stunning Spell, and since he, Ron, and Hermione had practiced it so many times last year in preparation for the third task, they were quite familiar with it. He grimaced as Grace said the incantation, flicked her wand, and broke Harry's glasses.

"Sorry, Harry," winced Grace as she put her hands over her eyes. Hermione quickly summoned the glasses over to her and fixed them. Yes, it was going to be a long class indeed.


	5. Five: Mud: It's Not Just Moist Dirt

A/N: The large sections that are _italicized_ are part of Grace's writing and are recommended reading; if for any reason, just to get a better sense of some of the things that go on inside of her head. *smiles*

****

Stumbling Grace

Chapter Five: _Mud: It's Not Just Moist Dirt_

"Why did I let my mother talk me into taking Ancient Runes?" Grace grumbled to no one in particular. "_She_ never had to take it. _She_ doesn't know how difficult it is."

"At least you aren't stuck in Divination," Hermione smiled at her, looking back down at her book. "Ron and Harry hate that class almost as much as potions, and I couldn't stand it when I took it, either." The library wasn't too crowded, as it was a Saturday morning. In fact, the two girls only planned to stay there for another hour. Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts were in the afternoon and they were going down to the pitch to support Ron.

"I heard they're doing palm reading, though. That could be interesting. A whole heck of a lot more interesting than translating 15 pages of runes about the different kinds of dirt in the British Isles."

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the frizz sisters," they heard an oily voice say from above them. Pansy Parkinson and a gang of her Slytherin friends were hovering over them.

"Well, if it isn't the incompetence crew," Grace retorted, barely glancing up from her homework.

Pansy looked taken aback for a moment, but returned with, "Please, you're such a geek, that you can't even insult me without using big words."

Grace looked up at her, smiled, and shook her head. "I apologize profusely if you fail to understand the meaning of my minute verbal assault, but there's a dictionary in that area, right over there, if you care to find out what was just said to you."

"I-I understood what you said, but-"

"What, Pansy? Were the over-two-syllable words too complex for your puny cranium to comprehend?" Hermione smirked.

"Because if our frizzy hair is the only means of insult you have against us, then we must ask you to please vacate the vicinity, before we die of boredom and lack of stimulation," Grace finished for her.

Pansy glared at them for a few seconds before turning on her heel indignantly and signaling for her group to follow her.

Hermione and Grace broke out into a bout of laughter as the other girls left the library.

"She makes it too far easy," Grace said in between laughs, with the occasional snort. The two were given a fierce look by Madame Pince, and decided to quiet down. "I need to go find a book really quick," she said, with a quick laugh. "Be right back."

Hermione nodded and returned to her Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. Unable to find a replacement for the job, Dumbledore had taken up the position temporarily. Personally, Hermione, Ron, and Harry had all been secretly hoping that Professor Lupin would be able take the job. But alas…

Grace carefully stood up and headed over to the back of the library. She wandered through row after row, searching for the section she was looking for. "Finally," she grumbled to herself, as she reached the "M" section. "Mud…mud…mud…where is it?" She'd never had the feeling of someone looking at her before, but she could tell what it was now. Turning around, she saw nothing and no one. She shrugged and continued her search.

It wasn't until she reached the book, _Mud: It's Not Just Moist Dirt _by_ Merriwether Mortimer_ that she stopped walking. The book was on the very top shelf, and while she was rather tall to begin with, she wasn't quite tall enough to reach it. Sighing, she stood on her tiptoes in an attempt to reach it. She sucked in a small gasp as a hand shot out from behind her and took the book from the shelf.

Grace lowered herself to her heels and turned around. There stood Draco Malfoy, a good head taller than her, book in hand, and an unreadable expression on his face.

"Um, yeah, thanks," Grace said, stumbling on her words. _This_ was the Draco Malfoy that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had always complained about? He seemed practically harmless, if a bit peculiar. Perhaps that incident on the train had been a fluke. Perhaps not. She didn't really care to stick around to find out. The way he was staring at her made her a bit nervous.

"You're welcome," he said slowly, as if taking special care to say precisely the right thing. He held out the book for her.

She nodded quickly, took the book, and turned back to the front of the library. "That was strange," she muttered to herself as she sat down.

"What?" Hermione asked, having heard Grace's nonchalant comment.

"Draco Malfoy," she replied, shaking her head. "I couldn't reach the book I was looking for and then he comes from out of nowhere and gets it for me. Then he got this really weird look on his face and wouldn't stop staring at me. It gave me this weird feeling."

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment. "What was the feeling like?" she finally asked.

"I'm not sure," shrugged Grace. "Kind of like I wanted to get far, far away from him."

Hermione let out a quiet giggle. "Well, that's how most of us feel around him. He's always such a prat and even though he hasn't been nearly as bad as of late, he's still insulting from time to time."

"That's just it. He wasn't being mean or vindictive or anything. He was being _nice,_ and that seems really out of character from what you guys have told me and from what I saw on the train."

It was Hermione's turn to shrug. "Who knows? Maybe he's turning over a new leaf. But I seriously doubt it."

They worked in silence for a few more minutes when Grace sighed and nearly slammed her Runes book shut. _I cannot concentrate on this crap anymore,_ she thought to herself. Pulling out a small notebook, she vowed to finish the assignment later that week. Taking special care not to dislodge any of the not-so-randomly-inserted pieces of parchment from the notebook, she pulled away the rubber band that had been making sure that all of the pages, whether originally there or not, stayed in place wherever she took it. Just for the heck of it, she skimmed the first few pages. Some of her major attempts at poetry in the middle of her fourth year were hidden within these folds, and all of them were failures. Meaning, they all reeked, were heinous, and in a word, sucked. She had never really had a rhythmic vocabulary, as far as poetry and lyrics were concerned. Whenever she finally found the words to express exactly what she was trying to convey, they never really fit a rhythmic flow that was needed, either being too long or too short.

But, poetry was not all that was written. Story, after story, after story and random thoughts and questions were stored within the pages of this notebook, as well as several others. She briefly thought about the small shelf next to her bed in which random muggle books and her past notebooks were stowed, all with a rubber band around them to protect them from falling apart. The one she held in her hand was number ten, and looked about full. Grace made a mental note to send for a new one from her mother soon.

Her first notebook dated all the way back to the middle of her first year. During her third year, her friend, Fey, asked if she had ever heard of a diary. Actually, the year before she had received one as a birthday present from one of her many aunts, and she had never written a single word in it. In truth, it was because of the restriction the diary held…almost like it had a life of its own, and needed to be written in at _its _discretion. However, the notebooks proved to be more…free; never making her feel guilty if she didn't write in them for weeks at a time. The notebooks proved to actually be some form of a diary to her overactive imagination; in her stories and mindless ramblings, her current thoughts and feelings were generally conveyed in a nearly subconscious way. It was one of the only ways for her to truly organize her jumbled thoughts. The only way it faintly resembled a diary was in the fact that she never let anyone read it. Ever.

__

The fire continued to blaze as she gazed fixedly into it, the flames and their embers reflecting in her light eyes. Yellow, orange, and purple, the tips mingled and mixed in a continuous cycle. A slight shaking of her shoulder pulled her out of the trance. Glancing up, she peered into a pair of twinkling, dark brown eyes. His lips curled into a slight, comforting smile as he uttered two words that she had never heard spoken to her before. "It's snowing," he said in a soft voice, causing her to grin widely.

She hurriedly stood and ran to the closet to get her coat and gloves. Snow, she had seen before, but she had never been in falling snow. He followed her, his laughter ringing in her ears. "You're excited, aren't you?" he asked as she tugged on her boots, almost falling over. She nodded eagerly. He found amusement in her excitement, but she doubted he truly understood it. He had grown up in a place where it snowed continually; she had not.

They were the only two in the large cabin, as the rest of the group on their class trip went to a fancy restaurant for dinner. The two of them had opted for fast food and had stayed behind.

"Come on," she said as she impatiently pulled his arm toward the door.

"Hold on, hold on. Let me put my gloves on," he grinned slyly, going a slow as humanly possible. She tapped her foot in impatience. Truth be told, the animosity between them throughout their entire education together had nearly disappeared with the help of this trip. To her, he was no longer a spoiled, arrogant prat who refused to ever listen to reason, and to him, she was no longer a bossy, opinionated brat who had to get her way. With the time they had spent together, they began to see different and better sides of the other, and past images and perceptions were no longer prominent. Well, almost_ no longer. Though she wasn't sure how long her lack of patience might last with him if he didn't hurry up._

"I'm giving you until the count of five, and then I'm pulling you out of this door. One…four, five," she said quickly as she pulled his ungloved left hand through the open door.

"What was that for?" he asked as she released his hand. But he never got a response. She was already jumping and twirling in the snow; sticking her tongue out to catch a few snowflakes. He laughed at her childlike, yet understandable, behavior as he took off his other glove and put them in his jacket pocket. "So you've never seen falling snow before?" he asked as she stopped to laugh and brush her long, thick locks of hair out of her face.

She shook her head and looked down on the ground. "There's not enough to make a snow angel," she said, looking back up at him, her bottom lip sticking out a bit, unintentionally.

"Well, it's only been snowing for five minutes. What did you expect?" he asked, walking towards her.

"The last time I saw snow, I was probably twelve," she began. "I went to my grandparent's house in the mountains for the weekend and one night, I went to sleep; nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing seemed different. But when I woke up, I looked outside and everything was white; the trees around their house, the ground, even the bird feeders. I guess I'm not very logical in my perceptions of snowfall," she said, pushing her hair back once again.

Leave it to her to speak like an essay when reliving a childhood memory,_ he thought, shaking his head. "Do you ever talk like a normal person?" he asked, half jokingly as he stopped beside her._

She turned to him, her eyebrows furrowed in mock concentration. "Hmm…not to my immediate recollection, no," she replied with an impish grin. Peering upwards, she sighed deeply. "I wish it snowed back home," she nearly whispered.

"Trust me, you don't want to live in a place where it snows every year, like I did before I moved here," he commented. "Even when I was little I could tell it was a pain." She vaguely remembered that they had been in the same schools since they were ten.

"Well where did you grow up?"

"Minnesota."

"That explains it, then," she said with a slight snort.

"Did you just snort at me?" he asked.

"Not intentionally," she replied, her cheeks flushing a bit. "It just…happens when I laugh, sometimes. And anyway, I'm not talking blizzards or white outs, just enough to stick to the ground for a few days every year. That would be nice. Don'tcha know?" she added with a smile.

He chanced a glance at her while she continued to enjoy the snow, oblivious to his watchful eye. Just happening to notice the rosy glow of her cheeks as her brilliant smile seemed to radiate warmth, and the way the snow would nestle itself into her loose, curly locks and then melt slowly, he thought that she looked, for lack of a better word, pretty. Even angelic. Far be it from him to realize that she had good peripheral vision.

"What?" she asked, not turning.

"What, what?" he asked in near mock confusion. Angelic? Where in the far reaches of his mind had that_ come from? _

"Do I have something on my face, or snot hanging out of my nose, or something?"

"Now that you mentioned it…"

"Funny," she looked over at him.

"I thought it was."

"Oh, a sense of humor."

"Right, we just established that when you laughed at my Minnesota heritage. Thought I didn't hear that 'Don'tcha know' comment, didn't you?"

She snorted in a laugh once more and covered her nose with one hand, continuing to laugh. He didn't know what it was, but whenever he was around her, he felt that he was expected to be and act smarter than usual. Anyone else just took him at face value, never expecting more than they got. But her…it was almost as if she knew_ that he could be more than just an athlete who got decent grades. Like she knew that he was capable of more, and wouldn't fully accept him until he realized and showed that he was more intelligent than he sometimes acted. He rather liked that unspoken challenge. Perhaps it was just a self-imposed challenge, because though she was truly one of the smartest people he knew, she didn't rub it into anyone's face. He doubted if she actually _knew_ how smart she was._

"Sorry, sorry," she mumbled through the laughter. "My friend lived in Minnesota for a while, and we always joke about how they talk. I guess I'm just in the mood to laugh right now. And I don't usually snort this often." Then she made a face that one makes when trying to hold in laughter. She failed miserably a few seconds later and succumbed to a fit of giggles. His own attempt at remaining neutral failed as he began to chuckle out of control.

It took them several minutes to get their laughter under control. "What are we laughing about, again?" she asked in between deep gasps for air.

"I have no idea," he said, bursting into another bout and slapping his hand on his knee. Here they were, two people standing on top of a mountain in the snow, laughing their butts off for no apparent reason. That thought alone kept him laughing, though he had no idea why. He suddenly noticed a bit of snow had landed on her cheek, and she made no attempt to remove it.

He reached over and slowly brushed her cheek with his hand, removing the now melted snow. They sobered up immediately.

There was a slight pause, and then, "What did you do that for?" she asked, looking up at him. It was a question of curiosity, not of accusation.

He shrugged. "You had some snow on your cheek. You didn't notice it, so I brushed it off."

"Oh." She bent her head to look down at her feet.

A sense of guilt flooded him suddenly. "Look, um, I wanted to apologize," he began.

Her eyes flew open and she stared into his. "What for?" she asked, slightly taken aback.

"Well, I know that these past few years, I've been kind of…"

"A pain in the ass? Unable to take a joke?" She bounced back quickly.

"Please, do continue," he muttered.

"Sorry," she grinned. "Had to get that out."

"But, yes, I've been all of that. You know what? I'm not the only instigator in all of this. You're the one that has a smart ass comment for everything and-"

"Are you apologizing for apology's sake, or so that I'll apologize to you, as well?" she interrupted.

"Hey, can't you just accept an apology?" he asked, taking a step closer to her.

"Not when it's given like that." She noticed how tall he really was at that moment: a good four inches over her already tall self.

"Like what? I was merely stating a fact-"

"If you're going to apologize, apologize." She crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at him defiantly.

"No! I won't! I was trying_ to, but no. You have to make everything a big deal."_

"I_ have to make everything a big deal? You complain about everything I say. Can't you just make an apology without blaming everything that _you_ do wrong on _me_?"_

"Yes, and I was."

"Ha."

"Everything's a joke to you, isn't it?" he asked.

She threw her arms up in the air and rolled her eyes. "Oh, here we go again…" Unfortunately for him, her left hand managed to hit his chin.

"Ow! Geez, remind me to never make you mad again. Or at least to stay three feet away when you're in combat mode." His hand was rubbing against his chin.

"Oh my God…I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you?" she asked, her eyes flooded with concern. She brought the hand she didn't hit him with up and pulled his hand away from his chin to examine the damage. His chin didn't seem bruised or anything, to her relief. "It looks okay," she commented. She glanced over at her hand and noticed that it was still holding his…and that his had clasped around hers.

Swallowing, she peered up into his eyes. She almost had to step backwards from the intensity of his gaze. He was staring right at her with an expression she couldn't quite describe, and her heart began to pick up pace. He glanced down at her lips before looking back into her eyes.

Oh God…tell me I'm not hallucinating,_ she thought, unconsciously licking her lips as he began to lean his head down…_

"…the Quidditch pitch," she heard Hermione say as she broke out of her reverie and put her pencil down. She still hadn't gotten used to the quills that were used so much in Europe.

"Huh? What did you say?"

"Oh, I said that we should head to the Quidditch pitch to go support Ron. It's been about an hour," she repeated.

"Oh, that's right. Well, let's go. We can't keep _Ron_ waiting," laughed Grace quietly as she gathered her books.

"What are you talking about?"

"Never mind, never mind," she shook her head. "Let's go put our stuff up in the common room before we go. I don't want to have to carry all of this stuff down there."

Hermione nodded and they made their way to the Gryffindor common room.

****

Harry's eyes scanned the skies, surveying all of the fliers with their eyes on the position of keeper. There were a few second, third, and fourth years, Dean and Seamus, and of course Ron. He, Fred, and George were exempt from the final decision because of any possible bias, but truth be told, Ron seemed to be the best flier out there. And with all of the practice they had had over the summer, he would undoubtedly be superb in the tryouts. The team's unanimously voted captain, Angelina Johnson, and the two other chasers were to make the final decision.

He looked down and spotted two figures leisurely making their way over to the pitch. Glancing back at Ron one more time, he began to glide down to them.

"Hello, Harry," Hermione called when he was close. He slowed and lowered his broom and flew next to them while they continued to walk.

"How does the competition look?" Grace asked, furrowing her eyebrows and looking up at the flying shadows.

"Why? Are you planning on trying out?" Harry asked with a grin.

She smiled over at him and shook her head. "Me? On a broom? Not unless you want mass destruction and a few broken bones."

"We're here to support Ron," said Hermione. "So how _does_ the competition look?"

"Personally, I think Ron's a shoe in. Fred and George and I can't vote for him, so hopefully the girls see how much talent he has."

Hermione nodded distractedly, searching for Ron. Harry shook his head, pulled back, and went to go fly next to Grace. "She doesn't seem nervous for him at all, does she?" Grace laughed.

Harry grinned in agreement. "I _am_ right next to you, you know," they heard Hermione mumble.

"You can't be as bad on a broom as you say you are," Harry changed the subject.

"Wanna bet? Okay, fine. I'm not _that_ bad, but I'm not exactly the most…I guess you could say, graceful person on a broom stick."

"Do you like Quidditch at all?"

She nodded. "It's a great sport. I've never played it before, but it's fun to watch."

"Hey, speedy!" they all heard Fred call from above them. "Get up here! We're about to start!"

"See you after the practice," Grace waved to him.

"Wish Ron good luck for us," Hermione added, as he flew up to join his teammates, a broad grin on his face. Ever since Grace had shown up, he seemed to smile more than he ever had before.

__

Huh…I'm acting like a teenager. Hermione warned me about this, he thought absentmindedly as the tryouts began.

****

"All right, great tryout, everyone," Angelina yelled as soon as everyone had pulled in. "The results will be revealed after dinner tonight in the common room. Until then, just relax, and if you don't make it, there's always next year."

Harry felt a short stab of apprehension, thinking of what the team would be like next year without Angelina, Katie, Alicia, Fred, and George. Of course, it would already be quite different without Oliver Wood as the captain, but that was only one player. He made a conscious effort not to think about it, and headed down to the locker rooms with Ron.

"You did great," Harry said, his cheeks tinged red from the cold wind.

"Yeah, well, hopefully it's enough to make the team," Ron mumbled, putting his broom into a storage compartment.

They quickly left the locker rooms, catching up with Hermione and Grace, who were already on their way to the castle.

"You did an excellent job, Ron," Hermione beamed.

"Yeah, I'd be surprised if you didn't make the team."

Ron's ears reddened a bit as he smiled in appreciation. "Hermione," he spoke up, "do you know how to work sleeping spells?"

"Um, a couple, yes."

"Good. Can you put me under one until the results go up? I don't think I can wait another five or six hours."

"As much as I'd love for you to be unconscious, I'm afraid I can't do that. Come on, why don't we have lunch, and then we can go visit Hagrid. We haven't done that in a while," Hermione suggested.

Ron shrugged. "Sure. Why not?" The four walked inside and into the great hall, sitting down by Ginny, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan. It was probably the most tense lunch that there had ever been at the table. Ron, who refused to even look at his food, much less eat it, kept himself occupied by making little beats with his hands on the table top.

"Ron, I swear, if you don't stop that, we're going to pants you in the first game we play," Fred threatened lightheartedly.

He looked up immediately, no longer held captive by the syncopated beats. "Who say's I'm going to be on the team?"

"Well, no one," George confirmed. "But you were the best one, so I think it's safe to say-"

"So you don't know for sure?"

"No," they both said, shaking their heads.

"Just…no…don't say anything about Quidditch or the team for a while, okay?" Ron asked, anxiety written on his face. He began to tap his fingers nervously once more. Hermione placed her hand over his and he stopped immediately. She nodded in both reassurance and warning, removed her hand, and continued eating lunch in silence.

Harry's eyes wandered over to Grace, who glanced at him knowingly, having seen the interaction between Ron and Hermione, and returned to listening to what Ginny was saying about her trouble in potions.

"Oh, well there's your problem. You need to add the bat's brains and _half_ of the malloweed at the same time. A quarter of the malloweed goes in exactly two minutes later, and the last quarter goes in with the dahlia near the end."

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him but nodded anyway. How anyone could be this knowledgeable on a subject they didn't teach, with the exception of Hermione, was beyond both of them apparently. Harry couldn't recall her cracking her Potion's text once all semester.

Once lunch ended, they trudged down to Hagrid's - three of their bellies full, and one as heavy as a rock regardless of not eating.

Harry raised his arm to knock on the door, when it suddenly opened. Hagrid stepped back for a second, but returned with, "Well, hello. I was just 'bout to go to the castle t'say goodbye to you lot."

"Goodbye?" Hermione asked in surprise. "What do you mean, 'goodbye?'"

"I 'ave work ta do," Hagrid replied, stepping out of his cabin and throwing a large bag over his shoulder. Harry remembered that during the summer, Hagrid had been working with Madame Maxime in an attempt to help the force against Voldemort, but perhaps he was only continuing the job. His guess was confirmed as Hagrid added, "We need to finish up what we started." Harry, Ron, and Hermione lowered their heads, but nodded in understanding. Grace stood to the side and watched the scene intently. She had visited him a few times that year with them, but didn't still didn't know him quite as well as the others.

"Who will teach your class?" Harry asked as Fang came out of the house and Hagrid shut the door. Everyone followed Hagrid as he headed towards Hogsmeade.

"Ter' tell yeh the truth, I haven't the faintest," Hagrid shrugged. "But I'm sure Dumbledore'll pick a right good replacement.

Ron frowned for a minute. "Don't be gone too long," he said finally. "We're going to miss you. Even Fang."

Hagrid smiled and clamped a large hand over Ron's shoulder. "I'll be back soon's I can," he assured him. "Saw yeh out there in tryouts. You'll make the team, no doubt 'bout that." Ron smiled faintly and thanked him. Hagrid's bottom lip began to quiver and he stopped, dropped his bag and enveloped them in a single hug, Grace included. "I'll miss yeh lot, too," he sniffled. He released them, backed up, and regained his composure. "Stay out of trouble, now. An' you'll be hearin' from me soon." He drew a large breath, picked up his bag, and walked away, Fang in tow. "Goodbye," he said, waving.

They stopped at the boundary of where they were allowed to go on a non-Hogsmeade weekend, and waved to him.

"Goodbye, Hagrid," they all chorused in different tones of sadness. Once Hagrid had disappeared from view, they trekked back to the Hogwarts grounds.

"Wow," Harry finally muttered. "It's going to be strange not having Hagrid here."

The others nodded in agreement, with nothing more to say. Because there really was nothing more to say that hadn't been said already.

****

Dinner went about the same as lunch. However, the table was quieter than before, due to every single person who tried out being there – none eating, and all staring off into space. When dinner was finally announced over, all of the prospective athletes raced up the stairs, their friends in tow.

Angelina, Katie, and Alicia were already standing in front of the fire, awaiting them. "Before I announce Gryffindor's new keeper, let me remind you that there will be five positions to fill next year, so don't lose hope for making the team," Angelina said. Harry, Hermione, and Grace had finally caught up with Ron, who had run ahead of them, and now stood behind him, awaiting the news with bated breath. "And let me say that this was a very difficult decision to make, and most of you _would_ make excellent replacements on the team for next year.

"Now, without any further ado, I give you the new keeper of the Gryffindor house Quidditch team," she paused and smiled at the tension in the room. "Ron Weasley. Congratulations, Ron."

Ron breathed a clearly visible sigh of relief. He turned and hugged all of them, much in the same fashion as Hagrid had before. As Fred, George, and Ginny came over to congratulate him, he hugged them all in the same way. Then he went over to Angelina and the girls and did the same. Harry noticed that those who didn't make the team looked somewhat dejected, but clapped for Ron, anyway.

Ron was nearly lifting the girls up, saying, "Thank you, thank you, thank you," repeatedly. Fred pulled him back.

"Whoa, slow down there, Mr. Keeper. Don't forget - first practice is on Monday night. Be there."

"Of course I will," Ron beamed as he threw his arms around his brother.

"Okay, that's a bit too much love and affection for one day," George said, grinning from ear to ear.

The entire team, Ginny, Hermione, and Grace stayed up for half of the night, talking about possible plays for the new season.

Ron's smile never left his face the entire night. Not even when he brushed his teeth before he went to bed.

A/N: Okay, because I'm such a buttmunch (I love that word), I forgot to thank my reviewers (probably because I'm not used to them, lol)

The Renewer: Don't worry, there _will_ most definitely be more in the future.

VeRyWiLdWiTcH: Well, thank you. I'm glad to be compared to a drug, lol.

ShellyK: Thank you very much for your compliments. I don't do this for the reviews, but it's nice to get some every now and then (hint, hint) J .

Thank you to all of you in fact, because I really wasn't _expecting_ any reviews. In the words of John Leguizamo, "Love, peace, and chicken grease." (You know, from "Pest"? Never mind)


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